A paper anniversary, but we are
the words written down, not the paper.
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I'm Philippa, 24, and I'm from London.
A Cue from Nature
Run outside during a thunderstorm
That downpour, that conquered hesitation, that exhilaration
That’s what unlonely is like
I knew roughly what my next reads would be, until I saw my lovely Ava at the weekend and we swapped books. These are the amazing ones she lent me. And now my reading landscape looks very different.
Commonplace, adj.
It swings both ways, really.
I’ll see your hat on the table and I’ll feel such longing for you, even if you’re only in the other room. If I know you aren’t looking, I’ll hold the green wool up to my face, inhale that echo of your shampoo and the cold air from outside.
But then I’ll walk into the bathroom and find you’ve forgotten to put the cap on the toothpaste again, and it will be this splinter that I just keep stepping on.
This arrived this morning but I can’t read it because my (lovely) professor set an Anthony Trollope book for Monday and it is not going well. The Lover’s Dictionary is just sitting on its newly designated shelf space and taunting me with its amazingness.
In other news: Klosterman hit a low with his chapter on Billy Joel, but is continuing to make me laugh out loud, often on public transport.